


The Emperor's Counsel

by runawayballista



Series: The Diamondflame War [4]
Category: Baten Kaitos
Genre: Gen, History Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Y909] Emperor Tyreus has no interest in the affairs of Diadem, but his senators convince him otherwise. After all, they must act in Alfard's best interests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Emperor's Counsel

The missive from Castle Elnath lay unfolded on Emperor Tyreus’s desk, and had been there for some time. He had prised open the wax seal with a decorative letter opener — a gift from the wife of one of his senators — and the broken pieces of it were still in a pile next to the missive. The seal of King Evrakahn was in the shape of a drifting cloud. Tyreus thought him a sentimental fool.

This wasn’t the first missive he had sent. The previous one Tyreus had ignored, dismissed — he was far too busy for niceties with the King of Diadem. It had been eight years since he had ascended the throne to replace his late father, but Tyreus still considered Evrakahn a mere boy hardly worthy of attention. His father — now, he had been a man Tyreus would have been glad to entertain. But Evrakahn wasn’t worth his time, not with all that he had to attend to here at home. Tyreus had run for the seat of Emperor with goals in mind. There were changes to be made, policies to be put in place. The Empire must prosper as she never had before. Whatever else transpired, Tyreus would ensure that his name stood out in the history books.

As one would expect of a man as industrious as Tyreus, his daily agenda was a busy one. He started his day by rising at dawn and doing a series of stretches and calisthenics by his bed. Although it may have seemed silly to some — and some senators, early in his term, had complained about how ill-fitting it was for their Emperor to go to such lengths for his fitness. But Tyreus was first and foremost a military man, and prior to his campaign he had had an illustrious career in the Alfard military. Of course, back then, the central military of Alfard had hardly been much. Much of the work of soldiers had in the past been executed by the various small groups of mercenaries across the continent. Tyreus, however, had seen to that.

Next on his agenda was a light breakfast of a half glass of water and a single egg on a piece of toast. His philosophy did not include big breakfasts; he believed they only weighed you down over the course of the day. Then, before anything else, he had a daily meeting with his advisors and the inner circle of the Alfard Senate to discuss the topics of the day, and the Senate had an opportunity to bring pertinent topics to the Emperor’s attention. Unlike his predecessor, Tyreus preferred to conduct business in his study. The senators hadn’t liked that at first, not at all, but they had adjusted. Now today, just as their daily business dictated, they filed into the study and took their seats, one by one. There was the usual business to be addressed — talk of taxes and social policy, of the Emperor’s standing in the favor of his people, of education and international relations and economics. Every senator and advisor had his own issues to lay before the Emperor, and Tyreus, though brusque, addressed each with a disciplined patience. He gave every man his allotted time to speak.

But sometime during one senator’s talk, he was distracted by the broken wax seal resting on top of the missive on Tyreus’s desk. Breaking off mid-sentence, he asked, “Your Imperial Highness, is that — have you received correspondence from the King of Diadem?”

Tyreus glanced down at the letter with the kind of dismissal he might give a spoiled child. “Why yes — I believe I have. Is there a problem, Senator Bannac?”

“I was hoping you could tell us, Your Imperial Highness.” Bannac blanched slightly, but kept on. “If I correctly recall, this is not the first attempt King Evrakahn has made at reaching you, and unless you have kept us in the dark on the matter, you have sent no reply. It seems the King is getting…well, for lack of a better word, _antsy_.”

Tyreus looked ready to dismiss the matter, but another senator, his head covered in short-cropped red hair, spoke up. This one was Senator Linven, a clever man whom Tyreus favored on most days, and so he was inclined to hear him speak. “His concern is justified, Emperor. If the King is uneasy, political unrest will follow, and that never bears good fruit. What seems to be the matter with the King?”

Tyreus smiled thinly, but he indulged Linven’s inquiry. “There is no matter. The young King of Diadem is merely presenting some entirely unfounded concerns as to the nature of our military program. He seems to think we’re trying to start a war. Ludicrous, isn’t it?”

The Emperor let out a short laugh, and most of the senators followed suit, though there was a distinct strain to their laughter, a nervous undertone running taut all through it. Linven, however, was not laughing; his lips were pulled into a tight line, and his brow was creased with worry.

“Your Imperial Highness, if I may,” said the senator, drawing himself up in his seat. There was a look of edged concern on his face, as though his fear of crossing the Emperor were trumped by the gravity of the situation. “Your policies on foreign relations have always been exemplary, and the Senate has always supported you, often unanimously, but if you will forgive my saying so — it seems that you have somewhat of a blind spot when it comes to King Evrakahn. He is no longer a boy playing to the throne, Your Imperial Highness, but a force to be reckoned with. Even if he is dreaming up these accusations, it seems that ignoring his concerns has only served to further his anxiety. Have we not observed fortifications made to Diadem’s military program as well in this last year or two?”

Tyreus was silent for a long moment. Tension grew in the air like ice crystals, paralyzing most of the men in their seats. Tyreus was always a practical man, reasonable, even, but no intelligent man willfully angered an emperor. To his credit, Linven was the only man in the room who had not turned his gaze away by the time Tyreus spoke.

“Well spoken, Senator. It seems I’ve been remiss in my duties. It is, after all, our job to protect the interests of the Empire.” The room seemed to collectively release a silently held breath, and the Emperor reached for the letter on his desk. He didn’t enjoy entertaining the notions of the young king, but it was all a part of being Emperor of Alfard. “We have made no effort to keep our scientific or military endeavors secret from the rest of the world, because we have done nothing wrong. We have certainly violated no laws. We are the frontier of progress, ladies and gentlemen. Our advancements are out for the world to see. Let them acknowledge in awe the progress of our society. We are the future of the Sky.”

There was a small murmur of assent from the senate. _We are the future of the Sky_. It had become something like a slogan for Tyreus’s campaign early on. The man didn’t just value science, he valued _progress_. He had established the first real military in the Sky that made the old order of Diadem knights pale in comparison. In Tyreus’s mind, the people of Alfard had what the rest of the world lacked: discipline.

“The young king of Diadem does not see it this way,” Tyreus continued, neatly smoothing the letter out on his desk. “He thinks we are a threat. That our burgeoning military is a sign of aggression. Of course, he’s been nothing but aggressive in turn. Reports indicate that the Knights have ushered in more squires per year in the last two years than they had in the last two decades. I think the man _wants_ a war. And now he wants to meet with me, ostensibly to discuss _peace_. Well, I suppose it’s about time we gave him what he asked for.”

“So you’ll allow the King to meet with you?” Senator Bannac asked, unable to banish the last touches of nervousness from his voice. “You’ll put an end to this arms race?”

“I’ll meet with the King,” Tyreus said perfunctorily. “To make any guarantees about the consequences would be foolish. If the young fool is hellbent on war, how could I possibly dissuade him? We must see to the needs of our nation first. We will pave the way for others to follow.”

He fell silent for a moment, and rose from his seat, turning to face the window with his hands clasped behind his back. It was something he rarely did during meetings. His eyes focused on the elaborate imperial gardens in the courtyard below the window. “If war becomes necessary, we will deal with it. Before long, Diadem will pose little threat to us. We have no need for ancient orders of knights when we have soldiers and rifles. And we will see to it that in the event of a confrontation, victory is assured.” He turned his head slightly, focusing his narrow-eyed gaze back on the senators, and suddenly his tone was quite businesslike, neatly and succinctly firing off directives. “I want a fifteen percent increase in standard military arms production by the end of the week. We need to divert more resources to research and development, as well — I believe I recall reading over the research proposal for sonic weapons penned by one of our scientists. I want to know if his idea has any merit. And perhaps we can come up with some incentives to boost enlistment. It shouldn’t be difficult to appeal to Mintaka’s older families and let them set an example for the rest. They understand the importance of this nation’s well-being. Senator Gael, how is the Azhani mining operation coming?”

“The villagers are beginning to organize,” said Senator Gael, a woman with a rich, throaty voice nonetheless soured with disdain. Her fingers were heavy with large, ornate rings. “They are beginning to formally protest working conditions. They actually tried to stage a strike last week. It hasn’t started to hurt our numbers yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“We can’t afford a decrease in shipments at this point. Azha’s mines are our biggest raw resource,” Tyreus said. And then, without skipping a beat: “Take the son or daughter of any worker that refuses to comply and enlist them in the military. We could use the extra soldiers, and it should provide a strong incentive for their cooperation. We cannot face any potential threat as a divided nation. The Azhani must understand that their sacrifice is for the greater good of Alfard.”

Senator Gael nodded curtly in acknowledgement. “It will be done, Your Imperial Highness,” she said smoothly, tapping her long, lacquered fingernails on the table in front of her.

“Have you anything else to report?”

“Nothing, Your Imperial Highness. Our mining operation is still proceeding profitably.” There was something insipid and oily about Senator Gael’s tone, like the words leaked and dripped from her full lips. “I’ll ensure that the trend continues.”

“Excellent work, Senator Gael,” Tyreus said brusquely. “Now, if there are no other pressing matters that must be brought to my attention, I have much work to do.”

With the meeting concluded, the senators filed out one by one, murmuring amongst themselves. Linven was the last to leave, pausing at the door of Tyreus’s study. “If you’ll accept an unsolicited opinion, Your Imperial Highness, I believe you made the right decision. But I believe you are right, as well — before long, no one in the Sky will pose much of a threat to the Empire, as long as she is under your guidance.”

Tyreus looked up from his desk, where he had already resumed his seat. Unlike Gael and Bannac, Linven was not much given to sycophancy and empty words. He rarely wasted words, and if he felt it important enough to say to the Emperor, it must be something he held with much conviction. Tyreus filed that away in his mind and gave Linven the barest, most perfunctory of smiles, hardly a twitch of his lips in the hard-set lines of his face. “Thank you, Senator,” he said, and Linven turned and left with a nod.

The Emperor unfolded the letter from King Evrakahn, reading it over once more, and when he had finished he hummed briefly in thought. He reached for his pen and ink and a fresh sheet of paper. He would draft this letter and invite the King of Diadem to his island; he would see to the needs of his people and avoid unnecessary conflict for now. It was in their best interest, as Linven had so succinctly pointed out. And when the time came, if necessary, they would crush Diadem and their foolish King under their heel. After all, as he reminded himself, they were the future of the Sky.


End file.
